


Surf 'n Turf

by Pikamiya



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-25 00:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17111447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikamiya/pseuds/Pikamiya
Summary: Nino owns a small burger shop on a sleepy street near the ocean, working hard everyday to succeed.  He’s a bit miffed at the new, luxury, sushi shop that’s opened across the street, even though one of the employees seems rather nice.  Not to be distracted, Nino instigates a feud; will the response be as he expects?





	Surf 'n Turf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shiro_nana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiro_nana/gifts).



Nino’s growl came out low and deep, startling Aiba from his burger and pulling his focus to his brother. Nino’s chef apron was smeared with grease, and as he leaned against the deep red counter, he ran his hand through his thick dark hair, making parts of it stand up on end. 

“Gross,” Aiba tosses a fry into his mouth, talking around the delicious bit of potato. “Wash your hands or get a hairnet.” 

Nino ignores his brother, continuing to glare through the picture window and across the street to the restaurant opposite. “SATOSHI’S SUSHI SHACK” is emblazoned across the windows, with a neon-blue sign with a leaping tuna proclaiming its “Open” status. He stomps back around to the kitchen, grumbling under his breath. 

Aiba catches a bit of “customers” this, “RAW fish” that, and he finishes chewing in contemplation before casting his own gaze across the way. The lunchtime crowd that had been patronizing the new restaurant across the street all week was queued halfway down the block. Aiba knew that Nino had been expecting business to die down, for some of his own regular customers to trickle back in, but that had not come to pass. Every day, every lunch, Nino became more belligerent regarding the restaurant. 

Aiba turned back to his plate, wiping the last bit of ketchup up with his fry; chomping down another two bites of his burger; keeping an eye on Nino via the pass-through window in the meantime. His mutterings became louder, as he savagely flipped a burger for a non-existent customer. 

“He just came out of nowhere, opened a restaurant, BAM. Threw in a whole bunch of money, and all of a sudden - customers! Even taking  my  customers, that I’ve worked my ass off for the past five years to get. I bet you his food isn’t even any good, I mean, sushi is  raw fish .”

Nino slapped the burger on a bun, adding cheese, lettuce, and tomato before sprinkling the top with seasalt and adding the top bun. He scooped up the plate and came back around the counter, plopping himself next to Aiba, the old barstool creaking under even the minuscule weight his flop had applied. 

“I bet they’re all there because of the fancy decor and expensive food, like eating at Disney! If I had that kind of money, I wouldn’t waste it on fish but good wagyu beef instead...” 

Aiba couldn’t help but huff out a laugh as Nino’s verbal onslaught was barely stymied by the burger he shoved in his mouth. The food seemed to pacify him, and by the time he had practically inhaled the burger and half of his fries, the stress in his shoulders had almost disappeared. Aiba watched as Nino stretched out his arms behind him, the bones in his upper back audibly popping. 

“Well, if you’re that upset about him stealing your customers, what are you going to do?” 

A different kind of tension chased itself up Nino’s frame, coming to rest in a sly grin and an unholy light behind his eyes. 

“The only thing there is to do, Aiba.” 

The sinister cackle that followed chased Aiba out the door, casting another glance at Satoshi’s Sushi Shack and shaking his head in pity. The other restaurant had no idea what it was getting itself into.

~*~*~ 

“Oh-chan, please.” Jun pinched the bridge of his nose, reminding himself that he liked his job and generally preferred life outside of prison. He counted down slowly from 10, with each number reminding himself of the positive qualities of his boss. That lasted until he got to five, after which he expelled the rest of the air in his lungs and turned back around. 

“Business is good now, because we’re the only option in this area other than that burger dive across the street, but we can’t rest on our laurels. We have to continue to perfect our menu for the local tastes in the area…”

Ohno yawned, clearly not listening while he sketched in another view of the nearby beachside. His hand reached out across the office desk, knocking off a sheaf of the first week’s accounts while searching for another blue pencil, barely a shade darker than the one he had previously held. 

Unable to control himself any longer, Jun pushed the rolling office chair away from the desk (and the sketch) before leaning down to scoop up the accounts and get them back in their folder on the desk. Separated from his art, Ohno realized that Jun was standing in front of his chair and slowly raised his sleepy, downturned eyes to meet those of the taller man, a sheepish smile moving across his face. 

“Jun-kun, I just want to go fishing and draw. I don’t actually  care… ” 

Jun’s fist slamming into the desk startled Ohno, keeping him from finishing his sentence. 

“But  I  care. I didn’t spend months setting up this place, pulling your paintings out of storage and making sure your spray paint was window-safe just to let it all fall apart at this point. Years of planning and you just want it to go down the drain!” 

“That’s not it, Jun-kun,” as always, Ohno’s innocent expression broke Jun’s scowl. “I’m just not sure what to do - you’re the one who cares what fish goes with what wine and all that other stuff.” 

Jun mouthed the next line along with him. 

“I just want to be fishing.” 

An hour later, a defeated Jun handed an elated Ohno his tackle box and watched as the now exhilarated (and wide awake, he noted) Ohno headed out the door, his graceful walk turning into a lope as he headed towards the boat,  Freestyle.  Again, rubbing his hand over his eyes, he headed back into the restaurant, straightening the navy linen at a four-top and pushing in a chair left behind. 

Before heading back into the office, he took a glance over the restaurant itself - the blues, whites, yellows, and tans evoking the feel of the ocean on a gorgeous summer day. His blood, sweat, and tears had gone into painting the interior, reupholstering chairs, sourcing anchors and carefully levelling the placement of Ohno’s canvases on the walls. His dream had always been to open a restaurant; it was just getting Ohno to help him that was the difficult part. But it was going to be worth it, he just knew it. 

It was Monday afternoon, and their schedule only had them open for lunch on Mondays; since they were just starting out, they were restricting dinner services to just Friday and Saturday nights. This served a couple of different purposes, but mainly it was all he could do to limit Ohno’s fishing to weekday afternoons and evenings, and he needed his head chef/business partner if he was going to handle the front of the house with just a pair of high school waitresses. The fishing itself was helping the Shack to stay afloat; they hadn’t needed to buy any fish since they opened. 

Lost in thought, his gaze drifted until it fell upon the weathered eyesore that was the diner across the street. The seaside air had obviously done a number on the building’s facade, made exceptionally worse because it was nestled between two brownstones that did not have the same maintenance requirements. The fabric sign, awning broken at one of the corners, simply had “Ninoniku” scrawled across it in messy orange handwriting, flapping in the ocean breeze. 

“What a mess.”

As Jun turned back to the office, the grumble in his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t actually partaken of any lunch himself. His market research had taught him that the only food option within walking distance was…  Ninoniku. 

Jun grumbled, but grabbed his wallet and keys to head out the door  \- there was no way he could work on an empty stomach.  He pulled his coat on over his tight-fitted navy uniform shirt, startled at how brisk it was outside this early in September. He dodged a couple of cars as he jaywalked across the street, returning a beeping car horn with a slight bow and hand wave in apology. 

As he pulled open the door, he was immediately struck with how different the interior was to the neat navy tables and recessed lighting of the “Shack.” Wooden booths with peeling brown upholstery ran along the left wall, while a row of barstools lined the burgundy serving counter. The cash register was an antique, with a quarter sheet of notebook paper taped to the back simply stating “ring bell for service.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Jun rung the bell and was mildly charmed as a lanky man stood up on the other side of the pass through window, holding a Nintendo 3DS in his hands. 

“I’ll be right there!” 

The man languidly strolled around the corner from the kitchen, sliding through the hinged partition and pulling a battered ticket book out of his apron pocket and a pencil from behind his ear… where Jun could swear there wasn’t one before. 

His confusion must have shown on his face, because the man’s face widened in a grin as he tapped the pencil against the ticket book. 

“We serve magic here at Ninoniku! I’m Ninomiya, your server, waiter, chef, all in one! I haven’t seen you before, so I guess you’re new?” 

Jun, slightly overwhelmed at the sudden and unbidden barrage of words, simply nodded in response. 

“Great! We serve burgers here. Cheeseburger? Got it. Hamburger? Got it. Mushroom bacon barbecue burger? Got that, too. All of them and some fries for $5.95.”

“Give me a half second; but I’ll start with a water, please.” 

As the other man turned his back to retrieve his drink order, Jun’s eyes land on a small chalkboard sign hanging on the wall behind the register, to the right of the pass-through. In neon orange letters it proudly claims to be displaying the “burger of the day.” Jun is distracted by Ninomiya plunking down his water, creating a thunk on the countertop and a clatter of ice. Ninomiya hovers, tapping his foot, and Jun picks up his glass, taking the first sip before returning to the specials board. 

That was a mistake. He immediately chokes on the water when he reads the sign, a mixture of horror and mirth bubbling up inside unexpectedly and exploding from his lungs as coughs. Worry takes the place of impatience on Ninomiya’s face, and he runs around to the customer side of the counter, smacking Jun on the back between his shoulder blades until he catches his breath. 

“The  Big Cock?!  I can’t breathe!” 

Ninomiya stops hammering on his back and makes sure Jun is making eye contact with him before winking. 

“That’s what he said.” 

Of course, there’s nothing Jun can do but order it at this point, and Ninomiya is quick to bounce back into the kitchen. The small diner is quickly filled with the smell of the deep frier. Jun continues to sip on his water and observe the restaurant, noting the water damage on the ceiling and the spot on the cream-colored wall that had previously held a large painting. 

He’s lost in thought when a chipped plate is slid across the counter to him; a large fried chicken breast, covered in melted cheeses, on a perfectly toasted bun is plated next to an abundance of crispy golden french fries. He quickly cuts off a piece of the sandwich, ignoring the quirked eyebrow and smirk of the man across the counter at his use of the cutlery, and puts it into his mouth. He’s unable to restrain himself from the low groan that comes out; the juicy bite of meat is seasoned beautifully, the buttered bun a beautiful complement to the moist chicken. 

“You can call me Nino.” 

He looks up from his plate, confusion evident across his face, meeting the honey brown eyes of the man across the counter. 

  
“That’s what everyone calls me... At least, everyone that’s tasted my cock.”   
  
Jun isn't quite sure to make of the man behind the counter. "Do you treat all your customers like this?"  
  
"Only the ones who choked on my cock." His grin was so comically lascivious, Jun can't help laughing. Nino barely dodges the fry that is quickly thrown at him. 

“Quit trying to give me a golden shower!” 

It’s only because the coward hid in the kitchen (and the fact that the food was so good) that Jun didn’t toss the entire plate at Nino. Their combined laughter made Jun’s heart feel lighter, the worries about the Shack drifting away. It was a true shame that the restaurant wasn’t busier. 

Just as he thought it, the door is pulled open again, with a blast of wind bringing in the cold and seaspray. The new customer shook briefly, his floppy hardwood-colored hair obscuring his face until he brushed it back and away, his superbly handsome face blemished by a cherry-red nose due to the cold. Jun’s gut lurched with a sudden and almost painful attraction and he quickly darted his eyes away so he wouldn’t be caught staring. 

Jun’s new friend immediately changed his tone, sounding like a scolding older brother as he bounced  over the counter, barely missing Jun’s plate as he swung his legs over. 

“Aiba, where is your scarf?” 

The new guy, Aiba, suddenly changed his posture, slouching and giving a half-hearted shrug. 

“You know how it is, Nino. There were some baby squirrels, and their nest didn’t have enough to keep them warm…” 

Jun was as much amused by that off-handed comment as he was by the dick joke/special. His eyes followed the pair as Nino brushed off another stool at the counter for Aiba, who pulled off his coat and flopped onto the stool like it belonged to him. Jun couldn’t help admiring how well the tight moss-green sweater fit his form, and mentally kicked himself when he met Nino’s eyes and could tell that the man  knew  his mind immediately jumped into the gutter.

He attempted to turn his attention back to his plate, but couldn’t help but overhear the conversation between the other two. 

“ Big Cock?  Nino, you’re my brother, that’s fucking gross.” 

Nino just laughed, but almost innocently, seeming to lose the sexual tension that had infused it earlier. 

“What, you don’t want to try it?” 

Aiba made gagging noises, but Jun should have known that the lack of attention to him was too good to be true. 

“Jun tried it  and liked it!” 

Aiba turned slowly on his stool, suddenly realizing that the pair weren’t alone in the restaurant. His eyes were wide as saucers, seemingly ping-ponging between the two of them and the sign. 

“Nino, you  know  that’s a health hazard! What if Takki had come in here? He practically  caught you  last time and…” 

Nino’s hand slapped across Aiba’s mouth, trapping the words inside. 

“You’re just jealous.” 

Aiba’s muffled denials were lost behind his hand. After a few seconds, Nino appeared to take pity on the taller man and released his hand. 

“Besides, you know tall, dark, and handsome is  your type, not mine.” 

Jun finally understood how Nino was dexterous enough to avoid his french fry; Aiba’s kick was fierce and swift, but Nino’s extra senses caused him to dodge and, once again, retreat behind the counter. Jun also chuckled, until he realized how red Aiba’s face had gotten.

For the second time in the last hour, Jun felt at a loss for words. He watched the blush spread to the tips of Aiba’s ears, and upon perusal noticed that Aiba’s eyes were as soft honey warm as Nino’s. Although that was the end of the familial resemblance, Jun noted the faint smile lines around the other man’s eyes and decided to let the pinging in his heart have a try.

“So, come here often?” 

Watching Aiba throw his head back in laughter made Jun’s heart soar. The two start chatting, and Jun doesn’t even notice when Nino sneaks out and sets down Aiba’s plate… in front of the stool next to him. He doesn’t even truly realize that Aiba is setting next to him until he casually reaches over and steals the pickle off his plate; Jun is so charmed he doesn’t even remark on it. 

It feels like mere moments before Aiba glances at his watch and jumps up from his stool. 

“Ah! I needed to be back at the practice ten minutes ago!” 

“Practice?” 

“Aiba-chan’s a veterinarian,” says Nino, appearing out of nowhere to hand Aiba a doggy bag and a bright orange scarf. 

“Is it really already three o’clock?” Jun clambers off his own stool, tossing down a ten and shouting goodbye to Nino before heading out the door himself. He catches Aiba outside, where the taller man is pulling on his gloves. 

“Um.. I know we just met, but that was a lot of fun. Can I get your number?” 

He doesn’t manage to play it cool as Aiba rattles off his number, but he’s glad when his grin is returned as Aiba’s phone dings with receipt of his message. They part ways, and Jun watches as Aiba jogs down the street towards the beach, ducking into an alley next to a tiny vet clinic that Jun had not noticed before. 

He smiles ruefully to himself and glances back at Ninoniku’s dingy sign. Who could’ve guessed what such a ragged exterior hid inside? 

~~~*~~~

Ohno frowned, peering down at the wooden box on the mat in front of the alley-side doorway to the “Shack” and scratching his head. The block-letter print on the box’s side claimed it was “fresh fish,” but there wasn’t anything  smelling fresh. 

Puzzled, he pried the lid off and immediately pulled back, nose wrinkling and eyes crinkling. Inside were certainly fish that had been fresh…  sometime.  Probably not anytime this week, though. But where did it come from? Since he was the one that caught their fish, they certainly hadn’t  ordered  any. 

Ohno headed back into the kitchen, making sure to pull the door tight so the smell wouldn’t get inside. He grabbed a pair of the gloves that he used to keep sushi rice from sticking to his hands and an apron before heading back out. He tugged the apron tight and pulled on the gloves before grabbing the box and, grunting under its weight, shuffling towards the alley’s dumpster. As he had predicted, the box started leaking all down the front of his apron. Once he dumped the box, he went ahead and drew off the apron, chucking it into the dumpster as well.

When he entered the restaurant again, he ran into Jun coming out of the office.

“Ah, Jun-kun. I caught enough fish for today when I went out yesterday, right?”

Jun sighed, and Ohno immediately felt bad, knowing that he was partially responsible for Jun’s stress. 

“Ohno, you really need to stay here, at least through lunch service. I can’t make the sushi.” 

“I know, Jun, sorry.” He ducked past Jun into the kitchen. That answered his question, at least. It wasn’t a supplier error, as  he  was the supplier. 

Distracted, Ohno began his preparations for the day’s lunch rush. Measuring carefully, he started the rice cooker and headed to the cooler to pull out one of the tuna steaks he had cut from yesterday’s catch. Tuna sashimi was always a quick sale, and Jun liked to make sure that the first orders, especially, received their meals efficiently. 

He sliced skillfully, but his worry over the stinky fish took just enough of his attention away that, instead of smoothly slicing sashimi, the knife missed completely and went into the meat of his own left hand. 

Startled, he dropped the knife on the cutting board and watched as the crimson swelled up. He recalled learning somewhere that a cut should be elevated and raised it above his head. Jun walks in a moment later, as a veritable waterfall of blood has just reached Ohno’s elbow, and his face goes pale.

The door slams behind him as he runs out of the restaurant and, in shock, Ohno wonders for a moment if this is how he is going to die; alone surrounded by fish. He thinks for a moment that would be fine, but then he catches the glossed-over dead eye of a carp he caught yesterday and starts screaming. 

“Jun! Jun! This cannot be how I go! They will get revenge!” 

He is still yelling when Jun bursts back in the door, dragging behind him a tall man with shaggy brownish hair and beautiful cheekbones. Jun shoves the stranger forward and heads towards the bathroom; Ohno can hear him rustling around in the cabinets before he returns with the first aid kit and a handful of clean towels.

Seeing his friend return brings Ohno back to a state of calm indifference; Jun and this other guy are big enough to protect him from his catch. The stranger pulls his arm down to the sink and applies pressure, causing Ohno to yelp - especially when he turns on the cold water to wash the wound and see the damage. 

“Looks like it’s just the flesh; Oh-chan, can you wiggle your fingers?” 

Ohno does so and the man looks relieved. Ohno was relieved, until the man starts pushing down and he sees the thin white layer of fat above the deep red of muscle. 

“It’s going to need stitches; Jun, can you run back to the restaurant and grab my bag?” 

Ohno has a moment of confusion; they’re  in  the restaurant. The stranger he has been left with seems to catch the absurdity of the situation and, to keep Ohno distracted and from staring at the blood still seeping out of his hand, he begins talking. Ohno is mostly taken with the flashing of his white teeth in perfect rows, but eventually tunes in.

“... is Aiba, my brother is Nino; he runs the restaurant across the street and I eat lunch there every day for free. I met Jun last week during lunch, and we’ve been chatting on the phone a lot. I mean, is it a lot? It’s at least once a day, but we text a lot, too. I’m a veterinarian, so I guess Jun thought of me first when he saw you were hurt; luckily for him - or, I guess, you - I have an afternoon shift and had stopped by early to help. Do you think it’s a good thing that he thought of me first? Like, has he  said  anything? You know, about me?” 

Ohno, honest to a fault, responds - “He hasn’t said anything. But then, he might have and I might not have listened.” 

At his first words, Ohno notes, the man looked absolutely crestfallen; but by the time he’s finished his sentence, the man’s grin had returned. Ohno’s eyes dart back to his hand, but before he can get all the way down his wrist the man has started talking again. 

“Well, he’s told me a lot about you. You’re his best friend, you know? I was jealous for a little bit, but he laughed, well, laugh-emoji’d, and told me that you’ve always been just friends. How is it to work with him? Is he as smart and funny as he seems?” 

By the time Jun has returned, Ohno is telling Aiba a story about when Jun, five years his junior, had tried to climb a tree to the same height as Ohno had gotten, and how Ohno had realized that he would never do anything in the medical profession when Jun fell down and broke his arm. Aiba is smiling and Ohno’s hand is still oozing. 

Ohno watches as Aiba digs around in his bag with his spare hand, his other still holding Ohno’s under the flow of water in the sink. Ohno briefly wonders if they will have to disinfect this sink before the health inspector comes. Would the health inspector be able to tell the difference on sight between fish blood and Ohno blood? Jun does say he’s practically a fish… 

As he finishes that thought, he realizes that Aiba has finished stitching a neat row of stitches in blue thread across the palm of his hand. 

“You’re lucky, Oh-chan. Even though you sliced pretty deep, it looked fairly clean. Keep an eye on it, and I’ll stop by tomorrow. You can’t use it, and you’ll see some pretty gnarly bruising.” 

“He can’t  use  it?!” Jun’s voice has reached unheard of highs in such a short string of words.  Ahh.  Ohno thinks.  The sushi. 

An hour later, Aiba has called out of work due to an “emergency.” He and Jun are situated behind the sushi counter, and Ohno is trying to explain to them how to make the rolls by grunting when they do things wrong. The sashimi are as prepared as they’re going to be; Ohno winces a little at the choppy cuts every time he glances in the industrial refrigerator. Instead of neat lines of nearly identical pieces with smooth edges and rounded scoops of rice, there are lumps with irregular slabs of fish placed on top of them. He sighs; although he’s not interested in constantly inventing new flavors, his sushi are generally  pieces of art that you eat. 

After the sixth time he attempts to show the men how to make a sushi roll, they have yet another pile of avocado, tuna, and cucumber squished into the middle of a ball of rice and wrapped with seaweed. He considers for a second changing the name of the restaurant to Ohno’s Onigiri Outlet before the chimes above the door jangle. 

Ohno can tell Jun is grateful for the distraction; he casts an apologetic look to Aiba (and Aiba alone, Ohno notes) before heading to the front of the establishment. He comes back a moment later with a shorter man bearing the same honey-colored eyes as Aiba. 

“What are you doing with my brother, Jun? Tsk, Aiba, even after you criticized  me  about what not to do in restaurants. And how come I didn’t know you  were dating the enemy, Aiba? ” 

Ohno watched as the man came to a stop, taking in the state of the kitchen. Tucked in the corner and away from the counter, he was free to observe. 

“Gross, raw fish. You’re  touching it?  Aiba, you’re disowned.” 

As he talks, the man makes himself at home, pulling on an apron and a pair of gloves. He expertly lays down a sheet of seaweed, followed by the rice and filling. Skillfully patting the entire thing together, he rolls it tight and picks up the short knife, separating it into eight equal sections without looking. His gaze had settled on Ohno, and Ohno could feel it starting at his feet, lingering at the bandages around his left hand and glossing over the rest of him briefly, dismissing him. 

“Let’s go.” 

“Wait,” Jun’s voice is pleading in a way that is new to Ohno. “We need your help. I know we’re technically your competition, but this restaurant is my life and  my chef is injured.”

“Chef?!  He doesn’t even cook. ” 

“NINO. A word.” Nino’s intended diatribe is halted as he is manhandled out into the hallway by his brother. After a few tense moments of listening to angry whispering, the brothers come back into the kitchen. 

“What are you looking at?” 

Ohno continues to stare, eyes heated. He never said he was a chef; that was all Jun’s idea, but he was an  artist.  And the ease with which this man had just rolled sushi, the teasing way he had announced his intentions, how he spoke his mind without wasting unnecessary time on nonessentials… 

Ohno doesn’t even bother to pull his gaze away. He noticed how uncomfortable his direct attention was making Nino, but he didn’t care. The man was a genius; just looking at the description in the menu, he was able to pull together many of the creations that Ohno had slaved over. Sure, they didn’t look as beautiful, but the flavor ratios were stunningly on point without him having to say a word. 

With Nino’s reluctant help, they just made it in time for the lunch rush. This time, of course, they’d have to close when they “ran out,” but Nino’s skillful and deft touch had actually gotten them as much prepared ahead of time as Ohno usually made behind the counter. Sure, the guests would not get the “show” they were accustomed to, but at least they could be fed. 

This time, instead of heading through the front door, Nino and Aiba started out through the back. Jun went with them, just to make sure that Nino didn’t “poach their customers, unlike  your fish ” as he had threatened to do an hour ago. 

Ohno spent the lunch hours lost in thought, unsure of how he felt about the man across the street. To say he was attracted would be an understatement; the man was sure of himself, outspoken, and direct - all things Ohno wished he could be. 

After lunch, Ohno headed to the office; but instead of his usual ocean and beach scenes, he found himself sketching sloped shoulders, tousled heads, two moles accentuating a curving cheshire cat grin. The face he saw that walked into his kitchen; the sharper lines that argued with a brother; the feelings he felt at “ doesn’t even cook” staining the page dark blues and muted greens. 

He came out of his artist fugue when the light through the window wasn’t enough to see the lines. Blinking, his eyes adjusted to Jun’s form slouched across the low couch, phone in his hand, red indicator light blinking rhythmically to let him know he had missed notifications. 

He flicked on the table lamp, glancing back through the last pages of his sketchbook, watching as the frustrated lines softened, became figures entwined in the graphite of his pencil. He was almost surprised to see the familiar lines of his own features, but ruefully acknowledged that it had been inevitable all along. 

The popping of his back when he stretched sounded loud enough to him to wake up the entire neighborhood, but Jun slept on blissfully. He was happy about that, as he didn’t need any questions about where he was going, why he didn’t have his tackle box. He opened the cabinet and pulled out a blanket, draping it carefully over his friend and coworker. He sat on the back stoop to tug on his shoes, breathing in the salted night air, savoring the crispness and goosebumps on his skin. 

This late in the evening, there were no cars to dodge as he crossed the street. He noticed the small door next to the closed diner, the numbers 3104 neatly etched above the name, “Ninomiya,” beneath the doorbell. He rang the door once, rubbing at his bare arms, jacket forgotten in that lifetime ago when he arrived at the restaurant. The skritch of the bandage along his skin felt electric, and he leaned back against the building and glanced up at the countless stars, awaiting destiny. 

~*~*~*~*~

Who. The. Fuck. Is. At. My. House.

Nino practically threw the controller at the TV, before picking it up and kissing it gently. 

“I’m sorry, baby, it’s been a long day,” he whispered into the speaker before setting it down, lightly this time, on its cradle on the end table. Whoever it was would have to wait, as he sluggishly grabbed a can of beer from the fridge, popping the top and taking a swig before toeing on his shoes and roaming downstairs. 

When he pulled the door open on the brisk chill of the outdoors, it had been a solid five minutes since the doorbell had rung, and he was hoping that whoever it was had given up already - he wasn’t up for company. He smirked to himself; the tried-and-true wait method of getting rid of salespeople and religious missionaries hadn’t failed him yet. 

He should’ve known that the way his luck was going today, he would be wrong. Standing outside, propped against the building beside his door, was the one person in the world that he hadn’t expected to see; the sushi “chef” from the shack across the way. He scowled and went to close the door, but a bandaged hand and arm stopped him midway. 

“Ah, that was dumb. Ouch,” the low-spoken voice was unexpected from the man who hadn’t spoken a word to him when Nino had invaded his kitchen earlier today. Nino growled as the man cradled his hand to his chest, but even his hardened heart wasn’t going to let someone bleed through bandages on his doorstep. 

“Gah, come in,” Nino stepped away, freeing the doorway for his unwanted visitor to step inside. 

“Actually, can you come with me?” 

“No… you’re  bleeding.”  Nino grabbed the man by the sleeve, tugging him up the stairs and into his bathroom, pulling out the first aid kit Aiba had insisted he buy. “You’re going to have to pay me back for these bandages, they’re not cheap you know.” 

The man was still staring at him, and it was starting to unnerve Nino. Catching his eye briefly in the mirror, he couldn’t hold his gaze and blushed as he continued to unwrap the bloody bandage. He hissed briefly when he had uncovered the wound; rinsing it briefly, he began wrapping it back up. 

“How did you do this, anyway? Are you new? You have to pay attention when using such a sharp knife,” Nino rebuked softly; he hadn’t realized the man had been sliced so severely. 

“Ah, no, actually. I was… distracted. Someone delivered a load of rotten fish to the restaurant today.” 

Nino choked and tensed up, squeezing a little too hard on the other man’s wrist. The man pulled his hand away and finished wrapping the bandage awkwardly with his left hand.

“I’m Nino, by the way.” 

  
“Ohno Satoshi.” 

The silence in the bathroom grew cloying, and Nino became all too aware of the other man’s proximity to himself. He met Ohno’s eyes in the mirror and was bewildered to notice that the man’s gaze had grown warmer, that he seemed unphased by their nearness. 

“Will you come with me, now?” Ohno’s soft request echoed in the small space and Nino nodded, worried about what he might possibly say next. He led the way to the small coat closet above the stairs and pulled out two jackets; Aiba’s new boyfriend’s friend was obviously a bit of a space case, coming over here in short sleeves  with delightfully defined arms . Nino couldn’t help noting that the man’s frame was similar in size to his own, but that he filled out the jacket Nino handed him with a firmness absent from Nino’s own. 

Ohno led him down the stairs, waiting patiently while Nino closed and locked the door behind them. Walking slightly ahead, without speaking a word, Ohno took them down the few blocks towards the beach. Nino was surprised at how comfortable it was to just be there next to a practical stranger in the dark of the night; he wondered how much of it had to do with the fact that he knew exactly how inept Ohno was with knifework. 

[a]

They didn’t stop when they reached the beach, but turned north, Ohno pausing occasionally to wait for Nino to scramble over dunes that he had scaled with graceful ease. Panting, Nino reached out and grabbed Ohno’s hand to pull him to a stop; Nino was a bit dazed to notice that neither of them immediately pulled their hands away. 

Ohno faced towards the ocean, the crashing waves taking the place of words that neither of them spoke. Nino stayed facing Ohno, noting how the moonlight was shining in his eyes as much as it was on the sea itself. It was a moment that Nino internalized, breathing deeply, unlike most of the moments in his life he wasn’t in a hurry to get to the next one. 

Nino was about to open his mouth to apologize for the rotten fish when Ohno started talking. His voice was a perfect harmony with the ocean, speaking in ebbs and flows attuned to the breaking waves. He told Nino about his love of fishing and his love for Jun, and how they had put his love of the ocean and Jun’s love of fine dining together to create Satoshi’s Sushi Shack. How the artwork on the walls and the window was his heart’s work, his loves put to canvas, and suddenly Nino wasn’t jealous; just in awe.

Ohno stopped talking when Nino squeezed his hand, pulling Nino down with him as he lounged in the sand. For the first time in his life, Nino thought, he was okay with being led. Although he had just met him, and Ohno had professed his love for  raw fish, even their hands seemed to fit together in a way that nothing else had. 

He turned Ohno’s hand in his own, noting in the moonlight the lines of his fingers and the dips of his knuckles, how perfectly adapted the hands seemed to be for the work they did. He raised their conjoined hands to his lips, kissing them as gently as he had the controller before, adding his apology. 

Ohno’s bandaged hand tilted up his chin, and the stars in his eyes were replaced with Ohno’s eyes. Nino would always remember the taste of their first kiss, the unspoken apologies and simple acceptance wordlessly exchanged. 

~+~+~

Nino didn’t want Ohno to leave his side that night, and the next morning Jun woke on the couch in the office with a crick in his neck. He stumbled out and discovered the two of them soundlessly working around and with each other in the kitchen of the Shack. Within a week, Jun discovered a new menu on the desk in his office, along with a contract signed by Ohno for biweekly delivery of fresh Wagyu beef. 

By the time Jun convinced Aiba to move in with him two months later, he wasn’t surprised at all to come into work to see  Satoshi’s Sushi Shack scratched from the window panes, replaced by  Surf n’ Turf  etched in blue and outlined in orange .  He also wasn’t surprised to find new paintings stacked next to the register; cows with fins, fish with hooves, everything with gills. But, however resigned he was to most of the changes, no matter how Nino tried,  Big Cock never once appeared on the menu.

[a] <3


End file.
